


A King and his Brother

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Community: got_exchange, F/M, M/M, Sad Targaryen Feelings, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:12:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for got_exchange on LiveJournal.</p><p>Aegon I and Orys Baratheon:  how they first met, how they grew so close, how they became friends and lovers, and what their relationship makes them see in the one between Aegon's sons Maegor and Aenys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King and his Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



“Remember when I first met you, Orys?” Aegon chuckles.  “It was on a night much this one, in a place very much like this.”

“It was broad daylight, Your Majesty,” Orys says, his teeth glittering behind his grin, his blue eyes picking up the green splash of the Blackwater.  “How else would you have seen me?”

“Do you correct your King?” Aegon says, welcoming the spray that cools his face as the water crashes over the rocks at the foot of the high cliff now named for him.

“Never, but I do correct my brother.  Often.”

Aegon slips his arm around his brother’s shoulders and kisses him on those full lips of his.  He already beds two sisters, sometimes both in a night.  A brother comes as a welcome relief.

*

As a boy Aegon felt uneasy on Dragonstone.  The island was naught but a prison where everyone paced and the dragons smoked and stank.  Visenya always won when they played at swords.  Rhaenys cried unless she was in Mother’s arms, where she cooed so sweetly everyone flocked to fuss over her.  Father was often gone from the island, spending nights away from his family, though Aegon knew not where.  There was nothing there for him but books and dragons, the latter filling him more with unease than anything else.  He was a dragonrider, meant to fly over the waves, not battle their defiance.  He should be lulled near to sleeping on a dragon’s back, not stay up all night listening to the never-ending rush of water, water, water.

Then Father brought a boy near Aegon’s age to the island, and things changed.

“This is Orys,” Father yelled over the wind that had roared all morning.  A storm was blowing in from the east, but then, a storm always seemed to be blowing in over Dragonstone.  “He’s your brother.”

“We have a brother?” Aegon asked.  Why had Father kept this a secret?  It would have been good to have a brother to collect stones from the Dragonmont with, to tell stories with, to stare at Balerion with.

“Who’s his mother, then?” Visenya said, crossing her arms across her chest.  Her tits were starting to grow, and Aegon liked to make a jape of them; no doubt she thought Orys would as well.

“She’s dead,” Orys said, his voice clear and steady.  Aegon thought his hair was even blacker than the old stones that made up his home.  Those had faded over time; some were coated with muck, others with salt.  Orys’s hair was as dark as the darkest night.  Darker, maybe.

“Yes, and it’s no concern of yours,” Father said.  He put his arms around all three of them and walked them toward the castle.  “You have another sister to meet, Orys, and then there is Velena.  I hope she will be welcoming…”

Father tended to prattle on and on, and it seemed as though he would be doing that again today.  Orys stared around Father’s body at Aegon.

“Hey,” he said.  “What’s your name?”

“Aegon.”

“I always wanted a brother,” Orys said.

“What about a _sister?_ ” Visenya complained.

“That, too, but a brother most of all.”

“Me too,” Aegon said, and though he knew not whether this was something boys did, he reached around Father and took Orys’s hand in his.

*

Behind them there sounds a cry louder than the gulls that swoop and dive over the bay, and after that, a bellow.  Maegor and Aenys have come running down from the Aegonfort, clad in their smallclothes and naught else.  Aenys is less sickly than he once was—the sea air does him good—but Maegor still runs faster, kicking up more sand.  Still a boy, he is strength embodied.  Hardly anything hurts him.  It is as though he was born with a suit of armor on.

“Father, may we go for a swim?” Aenys asks, coming to a stop by Aegon’s side.  Maegor is already charging into the water.

“It seems as though your son has decided this for you,” Orys laughs as Maegor dives beneath the waves.

“So he has,” Aegon says.  “Yes, you may, Aenys, and thank you for asking.  Did you ask your mother?”

“Yes, Father.  She says I may go in as long as I take care not to get too cold.”

“Hurry _up_ ,” Maegor calls from the water.  “Are you afraid?  Help me, I’m Aenys!  The big bad ocean’s going to sweep me away!  Some man-eating pirates will catch me in their net!”

“ _No!”_ Aenys is racing toward the water, sand swirling behind him. 

“But they’ll throw me back because I’m too skinny to eat!”

“ _You stop that!_ ”

Aegon sits down on the sand near an outcropping of rocks, choosing to watch his sons from a distance.  Orys sits by his side, as he will always do.

*

“I saw you kissing Rhaenys,” Orys said, stomping into Aegon’s bedchamber as though it were his own.

Aegon shrugged. 

“I saw what _else_ you were doing.”  Orys grinned.  His teeth were not the whitest, but his smile was winning and far too charming.  It always made Aegon smile, no matter what Orys had said.  “How does she feel down there?”  He began to thrust his hips as he walked toward the bed, talking in a voice so high Aegon near covered his ears.  “Oh, _Aegon!_ Not _yet!_ Not until we’re wed!”

“Shut your mouth,” Aegon said.  “You sound like you _envy_ me.”

“I can’t believe you’re to marry your sister,” Orys said, jumping onto the bed.  “It’s just strange, that’s all.”

“It’s how it’s done,” Aegon said.  “I find it strange that you’re _not_ marrying your sister.”

“I have no sister.”

“You might.  How would you know?”

“I don’t need a sister when I’ve got a brother.”  Orys sprawled out atop the counterpane, his arse covering up the middle head of the dragon embroidered there.   The wind howled outside.  The nearness of Orys’s warmth sent shivers through Aegon’s body.  He’d never shivered in the heat before.

“Will you promise me something?” Orys asked.

“Of course.”

“Once Rhaenys starts warming your bed every night…don’t forget about me.”

“How could I forget about you?”  Aegon gave the top of his head a slap.  “You’ll still be here with me on Dragonstone.  I’m not going to lock myself away in a tower.”

In the candlelight, Orys’s face was pale.  Worry shone in his eyes and twisted in his frown.

“You’re my brother, Orys,” Aegon said.  “A brother is always dearest to his other brothers most of all.  I could not live without you, and I will not.”

“Let’s swear it in blood,” Orys said.  Aegon had never seen him look so serious for so long, and he laughed in spite of himself.

“How will we do that?”

“D’you have a knife in here somewhere?”

Together, they found a knife of Valyrian steel with rubies laid into the handle.  Together, they pricked each other’s’ fingers.  Together, they pressed blood to blood.

The fire stayed lit well into the night; everything in the room seemed to flush and glow.  Aegon blew out each candle.

Together, they pressed lips to lips, chest to chest, hips to hips.

*

They are not alike, Maegor and Aenys, as unalike as their mothers; each is more like his own mother than like Aegon himself, yet each characteristic more extreme.  Where Visenya is unforgiving and seductive, Maegor rages and mocks. Where Rhaenys is flirtatious, always singing, Aenys pleases too much and dreams too often.

In the water, Maegor grasps Aenys’s sodden curls in his fist and twists until Aenys collapses to his knees in the sand.  He pushes Aenys’s head below the waves and laughs as his brother splashes furiously.

Aegon slumps slightly against the rocks, hiding his sons from view.

“Rhaenys mislikes how Maegor treats his half-brother,” he says to Orys.  His head pounds when he thinks of this.  It is difficult to come across a problem he cannot solve with his dragons, or his might, or his mind.  “She says Maegor will be cruel someday, and what then?  What will come of that when we are not around to watch over him and Aenys?”

“And what do you think?”

“They’re not much like you and I were,” Aegon sighs.

“Are you certain of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Keep watching,” Orys says, and raises his head slightly above the rocks.

Aenys, still on his knees (Aegon winces at this, picturing the broken rocks and shells that cover the sand there), is mouthing at Maegor’s smallclothes.  Maegor has a hand at the back of his head, guiding him.

“Brother…” he is saying, his voice a bold roar even over the lapping of the water on the sand, the crashing of the waves against the cliff.  “My sweet brother…You’ll do anything I ask you, won’t you?”

“Should we stop them?” Aegon asks.  “You’re my brother and my truest counsel.  What should I do?”

“How can you stop them, when we did what we did?  When we do what we still do?”  Orys shrugs and begins to tug at Aegon’s breeches.  “Your Majesty.  My counsel is to let me suck your cock til you forget about your sons.  I hope you do not taste of Rhaenys.”

“Visenya,” Aegon says, his voice already half a moan from the brush of Orys’s fingers against his stomach.  “I was last with Visenya.”

“Oh, gods be praised.  I prefer her.”

“Perhaps you are too crude to be my greatest counsel,” Aegon says, his back straining against the rocks.

“But am I too crude to be your brother?”

“No,” Aegon says, and runs his palm over the front of Orys’s breeches.  “As a brother you are all a King could dream of.”

“Then you must trust that your sons will take after their father.”

Who can a King trust if not his truest friend, his brother? 

Aegon’s eyes flicker shut, and he trusts.

 


End file.
